


Never In a Million Years

by musicalenchantment



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Come Shot, Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2019-09-28 09:19:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17180243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalenchantment/pseuds/musicalenchantment
Summary: It always starts in the middle, before Danse can figure out a logical way for the two to meet.It’s probably better this way - there’s no way in any circle of Hell that Maxson would be doing this, whether it’s in Danse’s fantasy or not, unless it just sort of… happened.Basically a whole lot of Danse knowing he shouldn't be fantasizing about this but not really giving a shit.





	Never In a Million Years

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt on the falloutkinkmeme:
> 
> _"Danse cranks one out while fantasising about the man he respects most in the world (Maxson) on his knees sucking the dick of the embodiment of everything he despises in the wasteland (Hancock)._
> 
>   _Danse is a… complicated man. A complicated man with complicated fantasies about his brother in arms blowing ghoul cock like he was put on this earth just to make John Hancock see stars."_

It always starts in the middle, before Danse can figure out a logical way for the two to meet.

It’s probably better this way - there’s no way in any circle of Hell that Maxson would be doing this, whether it’s in Danse’s fantasy or not, unless it just sort of… happened.

His hand strokes gently along his cock as he allows the thoughts to unfold, seeing in his mind’s eye his respected and fearless leader on his knees on the bridge of the Prydwen. A distorted, radiation-scarred hand rakes through Maxson’s hair, curling and gripping into it, and the Elder practically purrs for it. He’s leaning his head back as he looks up at the Mayor of Goodneighbor, the smirk on Hancock’s face burning into Danse’s vision.

They don’t make conversation. Danse, again, doesn’t know what they would say. He’s tried before to make this a coherent fantasy, but it’s too strange, too unbelievable, and nothing he tells them to say makes any sense.

In any case, he’s content with the sounds Maxson makes, the smooth encouragement that Hancock gifts to the Elder as the younger man presses his open mouth against the front of the ghoul’s pants. Maxson doesn’t waste any time, fingers quick to release the buttons, magnificent cock laying in wait beneath. Danse doesn’t have a reference for that sort of thing, of course, but he likes to imagine that all those rumors of Hancock’s romantic history haven’t been completely made up.

One thing blends into another as the Elder shifts forward, pulling Hancock from the confines of material and laving his tongue over him, strong calloused hand wrapping around the base and stroking. Hancock seems to like it as much as Danse, the ghoul’s eyes narrowing in pleasure as he continues to guide Maxson with a hand in his hair. Danse’s hand speeds up with the motions of Maxson’s tongue, trying hard to keep his own sounds to a minimum in his darkened bunk, surrounded by his brothers in arms.

Suddenly, Maxson takes Hancock into his mouth fully, lips swallowing up the length, and Danse can just imagine the heat, the unrelenting pleasure that his mental-Hancock must be feeling, groans falling from the ghoul’s own lips as Maxson’s reward. The sounds spur Maxson on, and he begins to bob his head, his free hand reaching up to hold tightly onto Hancock’s thigh. Hancock tilts his head back onto his shoulders, eyes closing fully as he enjoys the way Maxson swallows around his dick, inching further forward every time he bobs down.

A glob of saliva begins to fall down Maxson’s chin into his beard, and Danse exhales hard at the vision, watching as Hancock reaches down with his other hand to cup Maxson’s face in his palms, thrusting his hips forward. The Elder gets the hint and stops moving, allowing his jaw to go slack as Hancock begins to fuck his face with shallow pushes forward, moaning and cursing under his breath. Maxson doesn’t sway, determined to bring Hancock off using whatever means necessary, and his fingers tighten further against the mayor’s thigh, digging into that mottled flesh as he presses himself closer.

His large thighs surround Hancock’s shin, and the ghoul smirks as he feels it, tilting his head down to look at Maxson. He leans back against the guardrail behind him and lifts his boot, pressing insistently against the Elder’s groin. A rumbling groan escapes Maxson’s chest and he rocks his hips forward, grateful for the friction as Hancock pulls his mouth down further onto his cock, holding him there for a few moments until Maxson begins to push back, pulling away with a moan and gasping for air, a string of spit still connecting the two.

Danse is having a hard time keeping his hand steady at this point. The thought of Maxson grinding himself against Hancock’s leg like a - dare he say it - a _slut_ , is proving almost too much for his brain to handle. He’s painfully hard and chasing orgasm like a man on fire, biting into his cheek to remind himself that he can’t be loud. He twists his hand and he _feels it_ , the heat rising through his groin, and he knows he won’t last much longer.

It’s a good thing too, because Hancock is looking thoroughly put out in Danse’s mind, the same fever burning through the Paladin taking over Hancock’s every movement. He breathes heavily as he takes himself in hand, stroking hard and fast over his cock as Maxson waits, grinding himself down against Hancock’s boot. Maxson murmurs simple words of encouragement and he tilts his head back, mouth slightly open as he hunts his own orgasm down, the words falling from him like pleas. A grunt later, and Hancock is coming, shots of sticky white landing on Maxson’s face, meshing into his beard and making him close his eyes in ecstasy, the feel of hot degradation proving too much for the Elder to handle.

Danse watches, mouth open as his leader furiously rocks himself against Hancock, the humiliation of getting himself off against a ghoul’s leg altogether something he should not find mouth-wateringly hot. Hancock has his fingers wrapped in Maxson’s hair again, and he’s spurring him on, egging him with phrases like, “Look at you, grinding yourself against my leg like a bitch in heat,” and, “You want to come don’t you?”

Maxson lets out a long moan as his eyes flutter shut, the friction proving just enough to get him off, and Hancock is praising him, tone almost mocking. Danse finally crumbles at that, that smooth voice calling Maxson a “good boy” proving once again to be the tipping point for the Paladin as he feels release shooting over his hand, his teeth biting into the knuckles of his other to keep himself quiet.


End file.
